


Easy Money

by zarabithia



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-30
Updated: 2007-04-30
Packaged: 2019-05-20 11:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: In an alternate universe far, far away, Peter Parker was never bitten by a spider.  Naturally, in that 'verse he became a hooker instead.





	Easy Money

Most people, when they think of people in Peter's profession - male or female - think of a revolving door of partners, a different person in his bed every night. Peter had thought that once too, and though the thought had repulsed the then sixteen year old, he'd known enough about responsibility to not be deterred away from the only occupation a scrawny science geek could get that would really help out his widowed aunt out. Within a year, he'd come to learn that any hooker who stays in the game long enough - and is good enough - is bound to earn a certain degree of regulars, particularly in New York, a city full of affluent older men used to getting whatever they wanted at the snap of their fingers and for whom young, scrawny boys were a preference.

Peter is glad, on most days, that his body seemed uninterested in any efforts to gain muscle. If those crunches and futile visits to the gym had ever actually paid off, Peter wouldn't have had half the steady stream of regulars that he does. Which, in turn, would lead to him being even more of a sad cliche than he feels like as he dresses for his Tuesday night regular.

He has to be even more careful on Tuesdays than he does on the weekend. Stark may have a thing for the young and fragile, like all the other rich perverts in their city, but Stark's playmate would be turned off if Peter went overboard with the jail bait act. He'd thought otherwise and made that mistake once, and had been ushered out of the hotel room prematurely, with Stark muttering an apology and something about "damn flashbacks."

And Peter may not be good at much, but he _is_ good at his job and he doesn't like being turned away early, even if Stark had paid him for services not rendered anyway.

So Peter forgoes the carefully gelled spikes of his everyday hair style for a more boyish part on the side, using only enough gel to keep the strands in place. He slides on a simple black t-shirt and his nicest pair of jeans to complete the boy next door look, double checking his reflection in the mirror and frowning at the visible swelling along his jaw that the weekend's rougher costumers had left. He hopes his Tuesday night regular appointment won't notice.

As has always been the case, it's Steve that opens the door and smiles a greeting once Peter arrives at the expensive penthouse apartment that is one of many that belong to Stark, but the only one that Peter's ever performed in. The blond does trail Peter's jaw lightly and the frown that crosses his face briefly causes Peter to worry that he's about to get kicked out again. It isn't fair, he thinks, that he should lose business just because Fisk is an overenthusiastic kinky bastard.

His worry subsides when Steve closes the door behind them.

Stark is waiting on them in the bedroom, coolly swirling the dark liquid in his glass while lounging on the bed. The silk red robe is loosely tied around Stark's waist and the older man isn't at all shy about what the short-cut material is showing off. Peter supposes there's no reason for him to be. It isn't as though Peter hasn't had an eye full of the same before.

Peter's had enough Tuesdays with the two men to know that both his and Stark's next moves are entirely dependent upon Steve's actions. So he waits for Steve to ceremoniously shut the bedroom door and return to the bedside, listening to the ice cubes of Stark's drink clink against the glass, remembering when he'd been a naive newbie and had allowed his teeth to chatter in time to the sound of the ice. That time's long since passed - he's as calm and relaxed now as Stark is. Well, not quite. But almost. Because honestly, this is the easiest money he'll make all week.

And in the morning, the bruises left over from this experience will hurt far less than the one along his jaw.

As Steve reaches for the hastily tied belt of Stark's robe, the brunette lays his drink on the small, ridiculously shiny table beside the bed, the one that looks like it gets waxed once an hour. Peter has time to idly think that with Stark's money, that's not an impossible thing, before Steve turns back to face him and Stark barks an abrupt command, "Undress."

The first time he'd responded to that command, Peter'd been too nervous, and he'd shucked his clothes far too fast. _That_ mistake had angered Stark - the bruises hurt almost as much as the one along his jaw currently does - and it had taken Peter a while to figure out that the whole striptease part of his performance was for the blond's benefit, and therefore, Peter needed to make it perfect for _Stark._

He thinks he must have been pretty stupid not to have notice the way Steve watches him intently. But he makes up for it now, taking his sweet time to unzip his pants. Sliding the jeans down with his hands, he catches Steve's eyes briefly - just another weird kink to Peter, and proof that the blond isn't as used to the rich lifestyle as Stark is, because there's no way he'd want eye contact if he were - before shimming the rest of the way out of the jeans. The act never fails to bring a smile from Steve, and this _is_ for him, after all. It's not as easy to remove his t-shirt slowly, but Peter tries.

And for the umpteenth time, he almost trips over the pants around his ankles. Somedays, he really wishes for better coordination.

The pants receive an irritated kick at Stark's chuckle that he doesn't bother to conceal, and the shirt joins the pants on the floor before Peter joins Stark on the bed. Stark sits up and finishes removing his robe. Then he moves onto Peter's briefs (another kink of Steve's, and the only one that irritates Peter in the slightest, because really, who has a briefs over boxers fetish?) while Steve uses the previously obtained robe belt to bind Peter's hands to the headboard - never too tight, and he suspects that's why Steve is the one to do the tying. It's one of the few times Steve will touch either of them while Peter is here. By the time Stark's hands brush against Peter's thigh, Steve has undressed and made himself comfortable in the chair beside the bed.

Steve will remain in that chair all night, taking his enjoyment out of watching Stark fuck Peter. The situation is odd, even by hooker standards. It's not just because of Steve's voyeur fetish, but because Stark bypasses Peter's mouth and goes straight for the ass. Most men in Stark's position - Jameson and Fisk, and all the men in the parties they put on to display what nice toys their money could buy, for example - prefer his mouth. A less dirty way to get off using a man of Peter's profession, he guesses. Apparently, Steve's presence in Stark's life has removed any aversion to anal sex.

Peter doesn't really mind the oddness of the setup. The bondage and the voyeur kink both earn him an extra hundred for the night's services. Besides, Stark remembers to lube them both up generously, and the man inside him stopped hovering his mouth so close to Peter's after the first time Peter had turned his head away to avoid the nausea that came from the stench of the alcohol on Stark's breath. And best of all, Stark actually makes certain Peter comes too, even if it is sometimes long after Stark himself has climaxed.

Tonight, Peter comes first. He grips the belt holding his hands together - the feel of the twined, silk material in his hands feels _right_ \- as he climaxes, vaguely registering the labored breaths of Stark in his ear, and the matching grunts of Steve from four feet away.

When Stark finishes, he glances over at Steve to make sure that their always quiet observer has gotten the most out of the show, and satisfied that he has, Stark undoes the belt around Peter's hands, stands up, slides on his robe and tosses Peter's payment on the nightstand before heading to the bathroom.

By the time the sound of the shower springing to life can be heard, both Peter and Steve are dressed.

"Thank you," Steve says, and Peter blushes.

"It's my job," Peter says with a shrug, pocketing the money Stark left, and wondering if the old man had been too drunk to count correctly, if Peter had done something extraordinary that he was unaware of to earn a tip, or if Stark simply has so much money that a few extra hundreds is no big deal. Maybe it's a combination of those three.

"It doesn't have to be. You seem like a bright kid."

"There's nothing else I can do to take care of the people I love and go to college and make the same amount of money," Peter argues, vaguely thinking that this conversation sounds a lot like the "it's okay to use a hooker, Matt" conversations he has with the Catholic boy on Thursdays. "I don't know how to do anything else."

"Son, I'm sure -" Steve places a hand on the boy's shoulder, but Peter twists out of it, because that's really one kink he can't indulge.

"I'm not _your son,_ " he says coldly. "And I'm pretty sure we're done for the week."

"Alright," the other man responds slowly. "We'll see you next week then?"

"I look forward to it," Peter assures him. The fake smile Peter gives hurts the bruise on his jaw.


End file.
